Human Now
by Thanfiction
Summary: Human now, and so much has changed.


_One night, several people wound up finding pieces of a Destiel PWP ficlet in their Tumblr inboxes. This started as a way to cheer up Tumblr user Winjennster and became a puzzle. Each piece was marked with the phrase "Human Now," and the recipients had to use a series of clues to find each other and assemble the pieces in the correct order. If they did this, they were promised the identity of the author and a bonus. So I'm fessing up…and here's some art for the bonus. :D_ _I. Am. So. Not. Sorry._ _For the record, the recipients were: Winjennster, Winchester-Kelly, Hubrisandwax, Crackedchassis, Mishasassbutt, Deanhugchester, Drownedinblissfulconfusion, Clotpoleofthelord, Lastknownwriter, Ludditeheart, Inthebackoftheimpala, Eshcaine, Vhanstiel, Rejoice-Deanwinchesterissaved, Destinysraven, Silent-Asmodeus, Faithsotwised, and Wings-andgrace. Silvenhorror and Nerdylittledude were also sent pieces, but Tumblr ate them, and emergency replacements were sent to Deathbycoldopen and Cliffnotesofanerd. _  
_The final fic, properly assembled, is below:_

* * *

Human now. He had never used to notice temperature. Now he did. He noticed that the porcelain was cool against his thighs, and that much felt good against the suffocating Alabama heat of a motel too cheap to keep up their air conditioning, but it was still too narrow to balance comfortably, and there was no comfortably when you were trying to stitch up your own ribs with a modified fishing hook and dental floss.

Human now. He'd never really understood how far he'd expanded the vessel's senses, strength, reflexes until the first time he'd had to fight not with them diminished, but gone entirely. He was lucky he'd taken nothing more than a laceration from the beast's claws, luckier still that the heavy leather and layers he now grasped the need for despite their discomforting warmth had caught most of it and hid all of it from Dean. He didn't want the lecture on being careful.

Human now. No ability to block the nerve signals that made his fingers shake a little with adrenaline comedown and ok maybe let's be honest yes pain too soldier or not, teeth nip at his lower lip, sweat like salt dew on his upper lip, trickling down the line of his nose, making his hair curl. Focus that could only do one thing at a time and was so busy trying to get the knot at the impossible angle that he didn't hear the doors. He looked up, face flushed like a guilty child. "Hello, Dean."

Human now. Time linear, the thoughts of others silent. His throat tightened, his mouth dry as the green eyes took it all in; torn clothes, torn flesh, plastic bag from the corner drug store with the bloody things and empty packets. He expected anger, disappointment faced with the ugly truth of how vulnerable his once-invincible-invaluable ally had become. He did not expect a smile, a laugh, a hand on his shoulder, a shake of the head; "I've seen better sewing from my dead grandma. Here, let me."

Human now. So vulnerable, it meant so much more to hand over the hook, brace his palms against smooth tile, lean back and bare his wounded body to another. More surprise in his own flinch, greater still the softness, kindness, gentle, nurturing side of Dean he'd never seen that hushed and murmured, ran a hand through Castiel's hair, scattering sweat that caught the ugly yellow light like strangely beautiful sparks. Said I gotcha and don't worry and meant I love you in a way that stole the air.

Human now. Inappropriate, contradicting, how can so much of a vessel he knows to be so simple and primal be so beyond control now? How can such tiny things cause such response? Sucking a lip. Flex of tendons on the back of his hand, the ripple of his forearms as he deftly works. Humming low in the spaces between breaths. Denim pulled across his thighs. Dark hemispheres of sweat that cling an otherwise loose grey tshirt to highlight the lines of chest and throat. Lashes. Freckles.

Human now. The last stitch snipped and ends prickle-itch-tickling, gauze in place, tape tugging his skin when he breathes, shifts, flexes. Dean pats it, half-rises from the crouch. "All better now." The kiss aims for his forehead. Humans are irrational, impulsive, instinctive; that must be the reason his hands rise on a will of their own to take each side of that rough, perfect jawline and pull the mouth down and against his own, front teeth clicking together when Dean's lips part in shock.

Human now. Second-guessing he knew before but not mixed with this kind of giddiness and it has no chance to take hold before Dean's hands are on his face. Callused palms catch against stubble and pull the skin tight against the jawbone as Dean pushes them back, tumbled off the too-narrow edge of the tub and one man six feet tall could never fit in that tub but two men just over that in heavy boots somehow fit now in a tangle of limbs, laughter and moaning need. Because humans are impossible.

Human now. Pulse racing, fluttering, pounding, breath that st st stutter gaspcatch sigh moans sucks in so deep it pushes his chest out and forward and the hairs there stand on end against cool damp left behind by the warm damp of Dean's tongue and ruffle in Dean's breath like feathers once on a breeze. Human is textures, sensations, feelings, muscles tightening through the inner thigh and skin creasing up under friction and the hiss inside your skull when back teeth slide together. Oh humanity!

Human now. Bodies MATTER and clothes are in the way of them and have to go, but his arms are pinned above his head because there's no room for his elbows to bring them down. Dean tries to push his hips between Cas' thighs but there's no room there either and his shoulders skim the sides of the tub as he rears back, yanks his shirt off, hits his arm on the tap, douses them both in a frigid spray that stinks of old plumbing and makes him yelp and Cas giggle. Wrong. Messy. Wonderful.

Human now. No true sense of time. Forever to untangle. Forever to stand up. Drenched, jeans heavy, boots heavier, two inches of water brackish and indigo-tinged and leaving a faint rasp of grit on Dean's skin when he licks the dip of the collarbone. Forever until the faucet's off and to struggle out of denim that's fitted until it's wet and you're hard and swollen inside it and then it's just obnoxious but eventually they get it off boxers socks stumble fumble touch grab stagger slam down.

Human now. The bed bounces, tries to buck them off, the coverlet slick and plastic and clings to wet bodies and stinks of cigarettes and laundry soap and it's so loud and they're loud and can't stop laughing but every other one turns into a moan or a sigh or a yes oh yes like no there yes again please please FUCK. Rolling over and under again, scrabbling for a position to do they don't even know what they're doing. The dressing comes off and sticks to the side of Dean's thigh. They don't care.

Human now. His hands everywhere, find the thin soft places and caress, the thick rough places and grab. Want to touch everything at once be touched everywhere at once and it's there THERE in the needy love me belong with me place that was gutted open at the edge of existence a hundred hundred thousand years ago and knit back together on the lips of a thirty-four year old in an Alabama truckstop shithole against the base of his belly and the crease of his thigh. Fingers so tight in his hair.

Human now. It was never talked about, they can't read minds, but it was decided and agreed somehow. On his back, one hand on Dean's chest one in his mouth his own cock pressed in tight between their bellies, back arching, thighs clenching, muscle so thick that there's not quite enough space between at the top for Dean's cock and it's sliding against the back of his balls and along the crack of his ass but not in and Dean's grabbing his shoulders hard enough to bruise and he wants the marks.

Human now. Cas' hand takes the slick moisture from Dean's mouth and runs the writhing line of his spine to grab and squeeze and fondle and admire, then slide inside. Not deep, not a lot, just a tease, really, just enough to add to the sensations, push him over the edge. Make him cum. Screaming. Make his core shudder and make him lose his balance, his mind and sob as he collapses down hard with his full weight onto Cas who grabs him with his legs around Dean's hips like he'll never let go.

Human now. It's all instinct. Moving quick, hard, rhythmic, not at all together but it works anyway. Fingers find Dean's balls from behind, tongues halfway down each other's throats, Dean's hands take his hips, flip them over, throwing it off just enough that he can get his fist around Cas' cock, thumb against the head…he bends up and back so hard and sudden and it's so MUCH he feels like he's loosed his wings again. Good points of humanity: a cry like that would once have killed people.

Human now. The touches lose their ferocity slowly. Linger. Lengthen. Loosen. Lull. Growling wet sloppy lapping nipping thrusting becoming nuzzling trailing barely touching. Tongues to lips. Palms to fingertips. Wounds checked and bruises blushed over. Erogenous zones lose interest against eyes and the curve of an ear and the little bit of hair that the barber missed at the nape of the neck, the scar of a vaccination, the veins of the inner wrist.

Human now. How can something that seemed such a whirlwind be over already and yet the angle of the light through the sliver of curtains and the blinking red ugly digital clock all say it's been almost two hours. But that would explain the sore, thirsty, wrung-out, hungry. The totally dried from the impromptu shower and totally soaked in sweat and streaked with cum. The lazy stretch and hum and snuggle feelings that could nap and the part that wants to go running and find another fight. Messy. Needy. Confusing. Good.

Human now. Names become invocations instead of demands or exhultations. So much said in so little. Dean. Cas. Hey. Yeah. A year a month ago he sneered a little, baffled when humans said things just happened. That they didn't know how or why they did what they did. But he doesn't and yet does and it's such a mistake or something so right. Doesn't matter and matters more than anything. Ribs still hurt. Need to pee. Someone somewhere has cheap pizza. It smells amazing. Too much effort.

He's human now. Not how things were meant to be. Not what he was intended to be. Still so difficult strange ugly painful bad lonely awkward hobbling choking don't fit wrong so much of the time. This whatever just happened won't make it easier. But he hopes it happens again, and he's willing to work for it, and he thinks Dean is too. He's always liked humans. Now he loves one. Maybe he has for a long time. Maybe they were right. Maybe not all his humanity is so new after all. Maybe that's ok.


End file.
